


Song of Solomon 2:3

by lesbianferrissbueller



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bottom Steve Harrington, Church Sex, Churches & Cathedrals, Closet Sex, I guess???, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Top Billy Hargrove, blink and you miss it 50s au, shameless as it comes, this was a joy to write happy b day gio ily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianferrissbueller/pseuds/lesbianferrissbueller
Summary: When you pray, God is supposed to be able to hear you.Billy wonders if Steve can hear the all-consuming pornographic and devotional things Billy keeps in his head just for him.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 15
Kudos: 246





	Song of Solomon 2:3

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Gio,   
> I cant do this in spanish because i'm weak and also i wanted to do a lil speech. You are such a huge inspiration to me. A lot of time i wonder, like, what's out there for me in the young adult world and i think you're a really good like, role model of like, stability and happiness and stuff idk i just feel like being your friend has really positively influenced me so i want to give back.   
> You’re really amazing and you deserve all the kittens and weed in the world.   
> You said you like emotional sex scenes and religious themes.   
> Happy birthday!  
> Love, Gogo
> 
> P.S. for context, this is from the (hence discontinued) 1950s au. That’s why Steve’s ‘Sunday best’ look is a powder blue suit. It was supposed to be a scene in the fic as a whole. Steve and Billy go to the same church, and they've seen each other at church before since they started hooking up, but now things are ~different~

Billy doesn't really know why he still goes to church with his family. He doesn't know why he still  _ lives _ with his family. Maybe for Max. 

He looks over at her, past his father and her mother to her, in her green dress she always wears on Sundays. Her hair in two neat braids. She casts a glance sideways, looks at him, raises her eyebrows. He raises his back. Her mother puts a hand on her shoulder, and she looks forward again. 

Billy does the same. 

He tries not to think when he’s in church. Which sometimes is easy, because the lining of his blazer makes his skin itch and he hates having a collar that's buttoned all the way up because it feels tight compared to his now usual t-shirts. Which his dad hated for him to wear. Just like he hated the black Dickies and the hairstyle and the shoes and the jacket. 

But if Billy got started on the things he wasn't supposed to be doing he would only spiral. 

It was hard to breathe sitting here, in this stupid shirt, next to his dad. In church. 

He decided a while back he was okay with going to hell, anyway. 

He was ok with what was sending him to hell. 

Steve was two pews up, in powder blue, looking at ease next to his parents on the aisle. When everyone was filing in, Steve had walked past him, not looking at him because they both sort of felt like they shouldn't look at each other here. But Steve smelled like cedar and magnolia and Billy was hopeless against even the memory of it. 

The sermon echoes enough off the walls that it gets distorted. The sun is at such an angle that it spills through the stained glass windows and onto the cold floor, color lapping at the edges of the far side of everything. 

Billy can see Steve’s lips part as he sighs- he’s bored. 

Something about suffering being noble and pure, right?

But something about Steve is so holy. Precious, religious, right and good and sacred. Deliverance is the word, Billy’s pretty sure. 

Billy doesn't know if Steve knows he does that to him. Sometimes it seems like Steve thinks this whole thing is one-sided. 

It might be, just in the other direction. 

Billy looks up. He wishes this church had things on the ceiling. Like frescoes and whatever. The one they went to in California did. There’s just vaulted panels of wood on this one. It does nothing to distract him from his thoughts. 

How is one meant to worship?

With devotion, total and complete devotion. With a clear mind, or at least one filled only with the sacred. With genuine honesty- one is devoted. 

In action and in thought. 

Billy is thinking of Steve when they're supposed to kneel, when he kneels on the wood at his feet, and feels pain sour in his knees- bruises. 

He still has bruises from two nights ago when he got down on his knees for Steve under the bleachers in the dark. Bits of gravel dug into his skin against the concrete. 

Billy tries to bow his head. He tries to close his eyes and clear his mind or whatever. Or just to think adamantly about something else until this goes away but his knees hurt worse. 

He opens his eyes. He looks up, slow, being caught always on his mind about everything he does these days. 

And Steve is looking at him. Looking over his shoulder right at Billy, holding his gaze. Steve's hands are still held together in front of him. 

So are Billy’s.

No one else in the entire church can see them, eyes closed, heads down. 

They may as well be here in the moment alone. 

When you pray, God is supposed to be able to hear you. 

Billy wonders if Steve can hear the all-consuming pornographic and devotional things Billy keeps in his head just for him. 

As soon as the service is over, Billy disappears. Max lies when asked, said he went to the bathroom. Billy would do the same for her, she knows. 

Steve excuses himself from his parents, who barely notice. 

So while everyone’s enjoying donuts and coffee in the ivy-covered stone courtyard, listening to the aged fountain dribble out water to the best of its ability, Steve’s getting dragged into a supply closet. 

The first thing Steve does is undo the top few buttons on Billy’s shirt, and as he’s pressing his cold hands to Billy's warm skin, digging thumbs into his ribs, kissing his neck, Billy wonders how Steve knows him so well. How he’s let himself be known so well. 

They don’t speak. Mostly because they don't have to. And partly because they have to be quiet. So Billy can hear Steve breathing open mouthed when he palms down the front of his dress pants and finds him already hard. Good, they don't have much time.

Billy yanks off his stupid blazer, letting it fall to the ground. 

He undoes Steve's belt with the kind of ease that only comes with practice- Steve undoes the buttons of his own shirt, all the way down. 

Steve runs his hands through Billy’s hair as Billy kisses his stomach, pulling his slacks down, let's Steve kick them off so they hang around just one of his ankles. Billy wishes he could undress more- he wants to feel Steve’s skin on his, settles for pressing Steve back against the wall of the closet, and it would be a feat for anyone else but its not for Billy when he lifts Steve up just a little to split his legs, hold him up enough that Steve can brace his legs on the opposite wall. 

They’re kissing again. Billy can feel the burning hot length of Steve’s dick against his stomach. 

This must be worship- it has to be. The reverence with which Billy presses kiss after kiss to this deity of his- all his. 

Steve lifts Billy's head to get another desperate open-mouthed kiss in, tilting his head enough that it feels better than it should - God is supposed to love you. And, Billy realizes as Steve lifts Billy’s hand to his mouth, to coat Billy’s fingers in his own spit, you’re supposed to have faith that he does.

Steve smiles at him in the near dark- one of his chin-tipped-up, you-know-you-want-this smiles.

Billy wants this. 

Sweat drips down Steve’s face- would it be too much to say it’s like holy water when Billy licks it off?

Billy's slides spit-slicked fingers into Steve, but it's not entirely necessary. Steve must have ridden Billy for hours last night, Saturday bleeding dangerously into Sunday every weekend, they can’t stay apart for very long anymore. 

Billy wonders how this works in such a tight space, but he takes his hand away after only a few minutes and Steve’s silent direction, and it’s heady relief when he finally sinks into Steve, watches Steve’s lips part on a sigh. Billy realizes how warm the closet is. This is probably illegal, like actually. 

Which is the thought running through his head when the both hear footsteps outside in the hall. 

They stop dead. 

Steve’s kind of thrown- they’ve had sex three days in a row now. Before it felt like blowing off steam but this… this feels like something else. Steve can feel how hot Billy is inside him- the stillness is almost painful. And he can feel where Billy’s holds his back, where his fingertips dig in- it feels like being held in bed does even though they're just wedged in a closet. 

It feels special. Like Billy’s almost worshiping him. 

Is he?

The footsteps get closer. Then they get farther away. Then a far door opens and closes and they're gone. Billy feels relief turn to maddening desire since he has yet to get off and still has Steve on his dick and he can't really control how fast or slow he’s going when they really do get going. Steve pulls Billy closer, as close as he can be, holds Billy’s head, bowed against his chest, before Billy looks up from Steve’s jerking himself, from Billy buried deep inside him to see Steve’s eyes close, and his smile twitches little and then there’s hot come on both their stomachs but Billy can't do damage control because he just can't look away from Steve’s face, like illumination. 

Billy bites back a groan when he comes in Steve- this really didn't take that long. 

So maybe that's why they take longer to come down, sloppy kisses and soothing hands in the afterglow. Steve doesn't let Billy pull out for a bit, doesn't want him to. Billy doesn't either. 

They’ll make it back to their parents on time, cleaned up to the best of their abilities. 

But Billy doesn't really want to leave this unbreathably steamy closet, he wants to stay here, with Steve’s legs wrapped around his back, and Steve’s mouth on his, Steve’s scent all around him. 

He doesn't think he knows how to worship any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Song of Solomon 2:3  
> "Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my beloved among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste."


End file.
